


Reunion

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Buchous Amok [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Crack, Futurefic, M/M, Post-Series, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-01
Updated: 2005-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryouma meets Tezuka for the first time since Tezuka went pro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. Crack crack crack crack crack. I take no responsibility for characterization, because this is CRACK. Also, this story takes place _in media res_ of a much longer story. Arc. Whatever. Save me from my crack bunnies.

**Reunion**

Judging from the reaction, it had been a while since Echizen had seen his former captain. Seiichi chuckled, and leaned in closer to Kunimitsu, murmuring, "Don't look now, but you've been spotted." And then, because Echizen's eyes just weren't quite wide enough, he slid his hands down Kunimitsu's sides, letting them rest over the smooth jut of Kunimitsu's hipbones, and fit himself securely against Kunimitsu's back as they rocked in time to the music.

Even though he'd told him not to, Kunimitsu looked anyway, and sighed. "I should have known that 'No one we know will be there' was a promise that someone would," he said, reaching a hand back to curl in Seiichi's hair.

Seiichi chuckled again, turning his head slightly to nip at Kunimitsu's wrist. "Now, be fair. _I_ never said that."

It must have been a _very_ long time, Seiichi decided, because Echizen was still rooted to the floor, oblivious to the other dancers eddying around him.

"I know _you_ didn't say it, but this was your idea," Kunimitsu murmured, and he hadn't stopped looking back at Echizen.

Seiichi stroked his fingers over the bared inches of Kunimitsu's stomach. "Why don't you go say hello?" he suggested. "Prove to Echizen that he's not hallucinating?" And if he laid an extra lilt into the suggestion of proof, well. It wouldn't be the first time anyone had accused him of having a wicked sense of humor.

"Hmm..." Kunimitsu sounded appropriately thoughtful, so Seiichi gave him a little shove in Echizen's direction as the song ended and the next one began.

"Go on," he said, with a smile. "Enjoy yourself."

Kunimitsu gave him one of his faint smiles, the tug of his lips tossed over his shoulder at Seiichi, before striding through the crowd to where Echizen was standing, and waiting.

Another set of arms curled around Seiichi's waist. "That was fascinating," Keigo purred into his ear.

"Isn't it?" Seiichi turned and leaned into Keigo, picking up the beat of the new song as Keigo slid a leg between his. "I don't believe we'll need to wait up tonight."

"I doubt we will," Keigo agreed, flexing into Seiichi's hand as it trailed down his spine. "I _told_ you he'd thank me for talking him into those leather pants eventually."

Seiichi just laughed, and wound himself closer to Keigo.

~*~

Of all the ways he'd expected to meet Tezuka-san again, now that he'd finally escaped high school and made it to the pro circuit, Ryouma had never considered this one, as Tezuka-san detached himself from Yukimura-san and stalked through the crowd, the club lights gleaming off his hair and skin--

Ryouma swallowed hard against his dry mouth. Just _when_ had Tezuka-san turned into a sex god?

"Echizen." Tezuka-san gave him a little nod, a spark of something lurking in his eyes--Ryouma couldn't quite place it, but thought it might have been amusement, or maybe it was something else. "I didn't think you'd be getting into town for another couple of days."

"My schedule cleared up early," Ryouma said, and he couldn't keep his eyes from flicking over Tezuka-san's shoulder, and seeing Yukimura-san wrapped around--"The Monkey King is here, too?" he demanded.

Tezuka-san's lips twitched. "Any number of people are here tonight," he said.

Ryouma looked at Tezuka-san, a horrible suspicion dawning on him. "I _knew_ letting you escape to pro circuit while I finished high school was a bad idea," he declared, and wished for a cap to tug down over his eyes.

"Would you like to dance, Echizen?" Tezuka-san asked, instead of replying, and offered his hand to Ryouma.

Ryouma hesitated, and then took it; Tezuka-san's grip was warm and made a world that had seemed in danger of slipping off its axis stable again. Tezuka-san tugged him, closer, against his chest, and Ryouma swallowed a squeak as Tezuka-san guided him into the music.

Somewhere along the line, Tezuka-san had up and _changed_ on him, without doing him the favor of notifying him first.

And somehow, Ryouma couldn't quite bring himself to care, not when Tezuka-san was looking at him like that, eyes glittering behind the lenses of his glasses. He slid a hand over Tezuka-san's chest, palm gliding easily over slick material, and Tezuka-san rumbled approval low in his throat and pulled Ryouma closer.

They danced until the sweat gleamed on Tezuka-san's face, and Ryouma thought he might go a little crazy from the heat of Tezuka-san's hand on his back, and the solid presence of his body pressed close to his. Ryouma curled his fingers in Tezuka-san's collar, when a pause came in the music. "Tezuka-san..." It wasn't quite a question, or a plea, but Tezuka-san seemed to understand anyway.

"All right," he said, and laced his fingers in Ryouma's, leading him off the dance floor.

Ryouma began to catch his breath again, as Tezuka-san hailed a cab, and was starting to think straight again as he gave the name of his hotel to the driver, but then Tezuka-san's hand crawled across the seat and came to rest on his knee, fingers stroking the inseam of his jeans, and he stopped worrying. Tezuka-san, at least, seemed to know what he was doing, and want it.

And then Tezuka-san's hand crept higher, and Ryouma could only be distinctly grateful that his hotel was close to the club, and the drive would be short.

~*~

Ryouma hadn't said much since he'd pulled him close to dance, but then, Ryouma never had been very talkative. It was one of his many redeeming qualities, normally, but tonight Kunimitsu would have preferred a little more verbosity, as he paid the cab driver and Ryouma led the way to his room.

Perhaps he was too used to Seiichi and Keigo's talkativeness.

Ryouma's room was a small affair, and cheap, and there was no evidence of his luggage or his tennis gear--he seemed to have been completely unpacked, and the evidence of several well-thumbed magazines bore testament that he'd run out of things to do. The room looked--lonely--and Kunimitsu remembered his first months on his own. That explained why Ryouma had been at the club, at least, when he hadn't thought the other man to be all that fond of dancing.

Ryouma locked the door behind them, and kicked off his shoes, while Kunimitsu toed his off, and they paused for a moment, looking at each other. Then Ryouma came to him, and leaned his head against Kunimitsu's shoulder.

Kunimitsu wrapped his arms around Ryouma, tightly, and waited.

"Tezuka-san," Ryouma breathed, finally, into the curve of Kunimitsu's neck, and his arms stole around Kunimitsu's waist. He placed a finger under Ryouma's chin, lifting it up, and kissed him. Ryouma opened his mouth, sweetly, and his body against Kunimitsu's was relaxed and pliant.

Kunimitsu smiled into Ryouma's mouth, savoring the slide of Ryouma's tongue against his, and stroked his fingers up Ryouma's back to cup Ryouma's head in his palm.

Ryouma's eyes were hazy when they parted for breath, and he stepped backwards, drawing Kunimitsu further into the room, towards the bed. Kunimitsu followed, and captured Ryouma for another kiss, hotter and faster than the first one, liking the way Ryouma sighed when he slipped a hand under Ryouma's shirt, caressing the skin of his side.

Ryouma's eyes were bright and hungry, the way they were before a good match, and Kunimitsu's lips curled up again. He bent his head to Ryouma's throat, tasting the salt of Ryouma's sweat while he unbuttoned Ryouma's shirt and slid it off.

Ryouma made a soft sound, and his hands slid over Kunimitsu's shoulders and down his back, tugging at the snug hem of Kunimitsu's shirt. Kunimitsu stepped back, and skimmed it off, dropping it to the floor, before unzipping the leather pants that Keigo had insisted he wear tonight, and peeling them off his legs.

When he looked up, Ryouma's eyes were wide--just for a moment, before the fire heated them again. "Tezuka-san," he said, voice husky, and reached out to slide his fingers down Kunimitsu's chest.

Kunimitsu took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table, and stepped closer again, closing his mouth on Ryouma's shoulder. Ryouma shivered a little, head tipping back, and Kunimitsu tasted his throat again, teeth nipping soft skin, before guiding Ryouma back onto the bed. He bent over Ryouma, undoing his jeans and sliding them and Ryouma's underwear off, before stretching out next to Ryouma, and letting his fingers explore the planes and contours of Ryouma's body.

Ryouma wound a hand in Kunimitsu's hair, dragging him close for another kiss, losing the last faint edges of hesitance and opening up to Kunimitsu completely, hot and demanding. He moaned into Kunimitsu's mouth when Kunimitsu stroked his fingers over Ryouma's chest, and hissed when Kunimitsu tweaked the tight bud of a nipple.

Kunimitsu pressed him back against the mattress, and leaned over him to lick a path down Ryouma's throat and over his chest. Ryouma arched up off the bed with a soft cry as Kunimitsu flicked his tongue over a nipple. "Tezuka-san!"

"Mm." Kunimitsu blew a hot breath over Ryouma's chest, and ghosted a palm down, stroking the skin low on Ryouma's stomach. "Ryouma--" He tilted his head up, and asked the question silently.

Ryouma's lips curled up into a grin. "Yes," he breathed, and wriggled out from beneath Kunimitsu. He padded into the bathroom, and Kunimitsu stretched out again while things rattled around, until Ryouma emerged again, holding a foil tube.

He probably would not have wanted to know how endearing he looked with the faint color in his cheeks, Kunimitsu decided. Instead he lifted his hand, in invitation, and murmured Ryouma's name again.

Ryouma came back, and dropped the lube on the pillow before straddling Kunimitsu, leaning down to kiss him again, fingers playing over Kunimitsu's chest. He sighed into Ryouma's mouth, and let his hands work over Ryouma's back, kneading the muscles slowly until Ryouma was lax under his touch.

Then he let his hands drift lower, cupping Ryouma's rear and spreading him open. Ryouma arched against him, driving their hips together, and Kunimitsu hissed.

Ryouma moaned, and rocked against him again. "Please," he said, looking down at Kunimitsu with half-lidded eyes.

"Yes," Kunimitsu breathed, and reached for the lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers, and reached behind Ryouma, circling his fingers over tight muscles until they relaxed, and he could press his fingers into Ryouma.

Ryouma's head feel back, and his hands closed on Kunimitsu's shoulders, fingernails digging in. "Yes," he gasped, flexing back against Kunimitsu's fingers, opening up easily to the touch. Kunimitsu spared a moment to wonder where Ryouma had learned this, and who with, as he stretched Ryouma open.

Ryouma shuddered against him as Kunimitsu curled his fingers inside him. "Yes," he gasped, voice cracking. "_Now_, Tezuka-san. Please."

Kunimitsu drew his fingers out of Ryouma, and stroked more lube onto his erection. He paused, for half a second, to consider their positions, before Ryouma made it a moot question by curling his hand around Kunimitsu's cock and guiding it into himself.

Kunimitsu's breath stuttered as Ryouma's body closed around him, hot and tight. Above him, Ryouma groaned, eyes falling shut and muscles fluttering around Kunimitsu's clock, before he lifted up and rocked back down, settling Kunimitsu's cock even deeper inside him.

Kunimitsu groaned, and let Ryouma settle into his own rhythm as he stroked his palms over the muscles in Ryouma's thighs as they flexed with each rocking movement of Ryouma's body, and watched the concentration on Ryouma's face, and let his own pleasure wind through him, slow and hot.

Ryouma's movements turned quicker, and jerky, and Kunimitsu wrapped his fingers around Ryouma's cock, pumping it in time to Ryouma's thrusts. Ryouma shuddered, and his muscled closed hard and tight around Kunimitsu's cock. His mouth fell open, soundlessly, as he came, hard and messy.

Ryouma settled over Kunimitsu's chest, limp and wrung out, and only moaned softly when Kunimitsu flipped them over and gave himself over to his own body's demands. His hips flexed into Ryouma, until the rhythm of short, hard thrusts fell apart. The heat of orgasm overwhelmed him, and the world went white.

Ryouma was stroking his hair, fingers shy and gentle, when Kunimitsu came back to himself, and he said nothing as Kunimitsu disentangled himself from Ryouma. Kunimitsu reached over him, to the box of tissues on the bedside table, and grabbed a handful to clean them off, before settling himself next to Ryouma again, and drawing him close.

"You've changed," Ryouma said, finally, as he nestled his head into the curve of Kunimitsu's shoulder.

Kunimitsu snorted. "I met some bad influences," he said.

"Hmph. Didn't say they were _bad_ changes," Ryouma muttered. He paused. "Will you stay?"

"I'd be glad to," Kunimitsu murmured.

Some small thread of tension unwound from Ryouma's body. "Good," he said.

Kunimitsu just held him a little closer.

\--end


End file.
